Enthralled
by IDespiseTragedy
Summary: A war captive, Ludwig was enslaved and sold to a household in which his colleague, Feliciano, turned out to be not as sweet and innocent as his appearance had led others to believe.


Credits: Thank you so much to _Impoeia_, _Maejirase &amp; TheOtaku2_ for beta reading

Disclaimer: Nah, _Hetalia_ ain't mine; sheesh!

Warnings: Fantasy human slave AU with historical and cultural inaccuracy; exhibitionism and voyeurism involving twosome, threesome, and foursome straight and slash pairings; sickeningly mushy sap on some parts; purple prosse

* * *

**Eins**

**1**

Disembarking the wooden boat, Ludwig stood aghast.

While watching their sheep graze in a lush pasture, or sitting huddled before the fire in their thatched-roofed cottage, his father and the father before him used to tell him that beyond the sea lay the end of the world. And forsooth, the landscape presently stretching before Ludwig's eyes appeared bizarre enough to surpass the descriptions of the edge of the world in those cradle-tales of yore; he was even unable to negate with certainty that this foreign soil was not indeed the so-called netherworld.

Perhaps he had died yesterday, fighting as a warrior who protected his tribe from invaders who trespassed and trampled everything on their way across the salty waters. Men had fallen prey to pitiless scimitars whereas women were dishonored in their marriage beds. The invaders captured the younger generation to be sold as slaves. Lives, freedom, dignity—all scattered as easily as chaffs before the wind.

"Which god did we displease to have such disaster fall upon us?" the man plodding behind him—a blacksmith whom he had frequented—cried in dismay.

'_Disaster,'_ Ludwig mimicked the word in his mind. Demise skulked ahead of them still. The sting from battle wounds that clung to Ludwig's skin served as a reminder that the gods had a fate worse than death in store for him, for the departed should be incapable of feeling pain.

Now the blazing sun scorched through the stinging nettle bush like the fire that had eradicated his village, hot and blinding in the sweltering afternoon that presided over unfamiliar trees, their leafy branches spreading like canopies of malachite and their gnarled roots lurking to trip travelers.

Ludwig wearily dragged a palm across his forehead to prevent beads of perspiration rolling into his eyes, albeit the short-chained shackle disallowed him to accomplish this without bringing along his other hand. The heat was even more intense that the hottest summer in his native land. If he were to move, he would perspire. If he were to stay still, he would perspire all the same. Back home, this would be the middle of the rainy season, yet here, the crevasses between the patches of broken rock were mortared with dry grass—no sign that dew or rain had ever lingered, and the soil was no less brittle than shards of bone.

The aroma of baked bread and roasted meat drifted tantalizingly in the air, only to vanish quickly again, snatched away by an updraft of wind. Glancing up, Ludwig saw threads of smoke from cooking fires twist up through the bulbous chimneys from the pinnacles of rock-cut settlements, with their rows of horseshoe-arch windows rising sheerly hither and thither from a stupendous cliff. To the east, flies droned in the air over the garbage dump. These monolithic structures seemed to have been erected in successive layers, an addition affixed with each generation, forming a complex of hive-like dwellings that only grew more perverse and menacing with every passing glance.

Files of people of varying age and gender trudged across the graveled path, moving, stopping, and then moving assiduously again. The figures were lean and garbed in rags, sweat glistening upon their brows. Skin tanned from the long hours under the sun, they drudged down the path with a single strand of chain linking them by each handcuff. Between each pair of anklets stretched another chain that kept its wearer to a sober gait. Nonetheless, they lumbered erect in an attempt to balance the limestone slabs on their heads. Nor did they dare to cease their onerous treads, as overseers scrutinized their toil-worn bodies, whips in hands. In this land, death became their sole respite. At the base of the arid cliff lay a cemetery—or rather, a dump for the dead. Severed heads had been put on stakes, each locked in a rictus of terror and condemnation. Their scattered bodies were exposed for wild wolves to feast upon.

A tremor surged within Ludwig. For warriors, there would be glory; for sages, there would be wisdom; for him, there would only be slavery. As a war captive, wouldn't he soon receive a treatment similar to those pitiful souls? He followed silently as his captors led all the captives in tow, bereft of weapons and clapped in irons. As soon as the opportunity arose, he would make his escape.

The group traversed along a pathway so steep that it rendered them all breathlessness. Lined on one side with stone residences and thus too narrow for wagons, the other side of the path opened onto the boundless sky. Even so, Ludwig sighted no passing horses anywhere; every passerby—from the poorest pauper to the richest magnate—had to rely on his own feet.

Tugged in chained lines by their captors, the band of captives climbed another flight of innumerable stairs which traversed the winding streets of the high city. Not long afterwards, the aroma of overripe fruit decaying in the gutters mixed with the pervasive rancid smell of blood assaulted Ludwig's nostrils. At the next corner, they arrived at a marketplace. Just as in his village, the market was a place of bustling activity and in the press of people. The scalding air buzzed with a fragmented babble of voices that it was impossible to focus on any particular conversation amid the constant sing-song call of merchants offering their wares, from tapestries to copper pots. In vain, the vendors kept swatting at the flies that swarmed over the animal carcasses suspended from hooks and on display or the arrayed fruits and vegetables under the canvas awning shielding the grocery from the fulgent noontime sun.

But the raiders led the large group deeper into the center of town. On they trod through the flagstone arcade and a jumbled assortment of vaulted archways, passing the veiled women haggling over clothes and children longingly eyeing toys. The locals wore were dressed in hooded, long-sleeved robes that hung to their ankles and buttoned at the front, all in an attempt to protect the skin from the garish sunrays.

Upon reaching a large podium, the captors gestured at it by prodding the prisoners with their weapons until Ludwig and the rest had assembled on the circular stage. Then the captain of the raiders clanged his scimitar against his shield, calling for attention, and the townsfolk thronged in.

Another bearded raider prodded a lean man with the tip of his javelin so that the war captive stepped to the front of the group. His index finger held up high, the war victor spoke in his barbarian tongue therewith. Almost instantly, a man from the crowd held two of his fingers high, and then his neighbor held up three. Each time a man showed more digits, someone else outdid him. Blood ran cold within Ludwig's veins: the captives were given prices like livestock and auctioned off as slaves.

The trading of the first slave—a former fishmonger who had lived close by to Ludwig's cottage—ended with his handover to an aged man whose wattles quivered each time he spoke. Tears streamed down the cheeks of the second living commodity at the prospect of slavery, and Ludwig's heart ached. He, as well as many other tribesmen, was fond of this bard, who used to enliven their drinking sessions in the tavern. Yet, what could he do for his brother-in-arms when he was powerless to save himself?

The third was sold immediately, and so were the fourth, fifth, and sixth. Judging from the sellers' sour expressions, they did not receive a high offer for the seventh slave, who was an unattractive woman in her early forties. The woman's child, who was called forth next, had to drag her injured body from countless wounds etched by the weapons she had opposed as a shield-maiden and from the bruises the barbaric invaders had planted upon her formerly unblemished skin when they had tainted her virginal body. The next six slaves seemed to go quicker under the heat of the searing midday sun.

When it became Ludwig's turn to be goaded forward, two women raised their hands. The slave trader responded by raising the price, only to be met with heightening avidity from the same women. It was not until a man standing next to the taller woman scolded her that she did not raise her hand again. The other woman coyly fiddled with her lilac veil while raising her hand with every new demand the slave trader proposed.

Cold sweat rolled down Ludwig's forehead as he envisaged the sort of treatment would come into his possession under that woman's ownership when a mustachioed man in his mid-thirties raised his hand. The woman in the lilac veil seemed taken aback, color drained from her face, and no longer did she dare to bid.

Studying the man in silence, Ludwig wondered whether his latest bidder was an imposing political figure, or of great wealth, to inspire dread in his own race. Once a slave trader unctuously received a plump pouch from the magnate, he wasted no time to count the gold coins with avaricious twinkles in his eyes. A jerk of his head sent his two comrades dragging Ludwig off the platform to be handed over to his new master.

The mustachioed man conveyed something to Ludwig, but the newly-owned slave could only squint in incomprehension. Absent of surprise, the man tugged at Ludwig's chains, signaling the slave to follow his master.

* * *

**Zwei**

**2**

They walked down a long thoroughfare with even greater declivity than the route to the marketplace. Ludwig's breathing felt more strained with each step, but his master seemed perfectly accustomed to so steep a climb. When they came to an intersection at the confluence of three streets, the man in front of Ludwig turned to the left to follow an uphill staircase nestling between two buildings pressed so close together that their overhanging roofs nearly touched. Above it, a web of linen-filled clothes lines danced in the wind. At the end of the dark channel bisected by a narrow strip of sunlight, the two men they cut through the sea of robed figures and made their way toward a wider street.

The high meridian of the day had passed when their course terminated at the yard of a large house standing nigh to the summit of the cliff, drenched in the sunlight, though now and then falling into shadow as clouds sailed idly past. Here, Ludwig beheld a number of curious-looking animals that somewhat reminded him of goats, only these were as large as ponies, with longer hair than sheep's wool, but less malodorous than any cattle Ludwig had encountered. Even more peculiar still, no dog shepherded the herd. Nevertheless, he could not convey his query because of the language barrier.

Three youths of varying ethnicity greeted the master servilely, but Ludwig could not be sure if they were slaves, as they wore neither rags nor chains. They ushered them through a vestibule decorated with a handsome rug. Beyond it, yet another pair of doors opened onto a sprawling room that was more capacious than the entirety of Ludwig's cottage and furnished with plump cushions perched atop ornate divans.

The master dipped his hands into a basin on a stand, and then proceeded to cleanse his face. Only afterwards did he start to remove his traveling cloak and handed it to one of the three youths. He reposed on the farthermost divan as the second youth knelt and removed the pair of _babouches_ from the affluent traveller's feet. Next to the leather slippers lay a brass basin, with which the servant washed his master's soles. The mustachioed man issued his orders, and the third youth went running on his errant.

While waiting, Ludwig studied the room. His cottage encompassed only a single versatile room, but the rooms in this house were indubitably assigned to a variety of functions. Stone—albeit of different kinds—became the main building material, from floor to ceiling. Considering the position of the three divans surrounding a low table laden with a platter of fresh fruits and a water jug, this room here was likeliest a place for family gatherings. Two horseshoe-arch windows offered a delightful view of the neighboring properties and the desiccated plateau below.

The third youth returned with a set of clothes, which he handed to Ludwig. Behind him stood a slightly shorter youth with brown hair and an odd-shaped cowlick on the left side of his head.

Unsure of what to do with the folded garments, Ludwig merely held them. He watched the master's expression—maybe the mustachioed man would brandish a scimitar if he wanted Ludwig to help him change into that robe. Instead, the master instructed the fourth youth while indicating Ludwig.

The brown-haired youth stepped closer to Ludwig. Smiling, he verbalized a few phrases in a language that Ludwig had no comprehension of, only its root sounded different from the intimidating tongue spoken among the slave traders.

Discerning that this was not the right language to communicate, the brunet ventured a different one.

Again, Ludwig shook his head.

It was not until the fifth attempt that Ludwig replied, "Yes, I understand your words."

The brunet's smile grew wider as he enthusiastically prated in Ludwig's native tongue, "Salutations, stranger. I'm Feliciano and this is my seventh year in the service of this noble house. Who are you?"

"I am called Ludwig, son of Folkert, who is son of Gerhart of the Suebi Tribe."

Feliciano laughed at Ludwig's buckram introduction, but when he spoke, his words were not unkind, "Ludwig, these are for you. The clothes in this land are of a one-size-fits-all variety; they should fit anyone regardless of diversity in stature."

Ludwig could not conceive how such unshapely garments would suit him well, but the tunic clinging to his skin was torn from his battle and caked with blood. Moreover, this attire was far better than the rags donned by the slaves at the bottom of the cliff. He nodded and said, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, silly. Thank our master, Alpertunga Onarici." Feliciano gestured toward the mustachioed man.

"How does one express gratitude in the Telaardighaean tongue?"

"Just say, '_taşeqqür eferin_.'"

Ludwig tried his best to repeat the phrase, albeit he had difficulties in vibrating his tongue for the rhotic consonants.

Alpertunga evinced a complacent grin before giving Feliciano further instructions, which the brunet translated, "Since you came from the fearsome tribe of Suebi, master demands you protect him, now that Réamonn is dead—ah, Réamonn was master's previous guard. You will start working this evening; until then, I can prepare you a meal, supply you with the weapons of your choice, and dress your wounds."

It was a stroke of fortune that Ludwig's wounds were shallow; they did not take too long to nurse even though a few were bound to leave scars.

Feliciano then took Ludwig to the rear of the house, where they found a room full of weapons. The personal armory was rife with all the weapons Ludwig could imagine, as well as those he had never laid eyes upon. Circular shields adorned one side of the walls, and in the center was a circle of arrayed spears. War hammers, maces, flails, daggers, and bows—from the most austere to the most decorative—were mere trinkets in Alpertunga's vast collection.

"Is it a common practice for the locals to host plenteous weapons in every household?" Ludwig queried.

"Nay, the House of Onarici is one of the few exceptions," Feliciano explained, a smile tugging at his lips, "Master works as a weapon trader—that's why."

Ludwig tested a few weapons for their weight, sharpness, and compatibility. In the end, he opted for an _Ulfberht_, similar to his own sword back home.

"You look dashing!" Feliciano commented as Ludwig attached the sheathed blade to his belt.

An involuntary jolt formed inside Ludwig's stomach. "Thank you," he managed a starchy reply before exhorting Feliciano out of the armory, "Let's tarry no longer."

Afterwards, Feliciano introduced Ludwig to their workfellows. There were twenty other slaves in the household, of different age, gender, and ethnicity, but they shared one common similarity: most of them spoke very little of the local language and had to rely on gestures for communication.

Upon passing the archway to the kitchen, Ludwig felt something yanking the back of his head. The more he endeavored to proceed forward, the harder it pulled his hair.

Two young boys laughed at him while pointing at the ceiling.

Feliciano grabbed a nearby stool and explained as he climbed, "You got caught to the fly glue trap. Stay still."

It was not until Feliciano stepped down from the stool that Ludwig could examine the trap. Formerly hung above the entryway, it looked like a sheet of tree bark with a third of its adhesive surface covered in fly corpses. Feliciano had patiently disentangled his hair, strand by strand, from the tree sap.

"Sorry, I couldn't save a few strands of your hair; the sap of Garahepa trees is too sticky," Feliciano uttered through his freewheeling smile.

"Pay it no mind. Thank you," Ludwig mumbled as he inwardly grumbled, _'Curse this place; it's too hot and dirty!'_ His native land would be too cold for insects, except during summer.

To Ludwig's disgust, the slaves ate directly with their fingers, even though they—mercifully—still employed stirrers double-functioning as ladles to transfer the food from the containers to individual dishes. As the custom of the land dictated, the cuisine was too heavily spiced for Ludwig's liking. However, at Feliciano's concerned expression, Ludwig tried to be polite. He pointed at a stew on a cone-lidded clay pot and asked, "Which animal does this meat come from?"

Feliciano answered with his mouth full, "This is yamoich meat."

"What is yamoich?"

"You saw them on the front yard. They're the most popular sustenance on this land, since they thrive on treeless uplands, even the rocky ones. They're bred for their milk, meat, and as beasts of burden. Oh, and their fat can be processed into oil for fuel and medicines," Feliciano explained, and then his teeth went back to gnaw off a strip of meat.

Ludwig watched Feliciano chew the chunk of meat, mesmerized by the way his tongue lapped at the corners of his mouth. The shorter youth's lips looked far more luscious than the food they were eating. Ludwig kept staring until he caught Feliciano staring back, head quirked questioningly to the side.

"You've got some sauce on your cheek." Ludwig muttered quickly to cover the mistake.

Feliciano stuck out his tongue, licking at the wrong cheek.

"Nay, here." Ludwig wiped the smear away with his finger, to their mutual astonishment. He was not normally such an intrusive figure, but somehow he could not ignore Feliciano.

"Thank you," Feliciano mumbled, and then continued chewing.

It was a blessing that not all the vegetable dishes were drenched in spices. There were also fruits and desserts, which, although heavily seasoned, did not scathe Ludwig's tongue with their peppery hotness. Even so, it was already too late to realize that the spices proved disagreeable nonetheless; his stomach hurt instantly and before he finished dinner, his digestive system forced him to empty his bowel.

**Drei**

**3**

"Are you all right?" Feliciano asked concernedly as soon as Ludwig emerged from the latrine.

Ludwig nodded despite the enervation of his diarrhea.

"Come, I want to show you the sunset." Feliciano exhorted and, without waiting for Ludwig's answer, he took Ludwig's hand.

Ludwig considered asking why, but seeing his colleague's conviviality and childish sprightliness, he dismissed all suspicions from his head and let himself be goaded outside. The breathtaking view of the sun's vermillion resplendence over the glittering distant sea and the balminess of the air soothed his heart and he momentarily forgot that he was no longer a free man, daring to be mirthful once more.

Then it came across Ludwig that his luck was not as rotten as his companion's, who had been forced to become a slave at a younger age. "Feliciano, since you have worked here for seven years, does that mean you were about nine years old when you first came? Wasn't it hard to work as a child?"

Feliciano blinked, and then grinned. "Ve, I'm already twenty, so I was thirteen at that time, but aye, inexperience did load me with hardships which instilled sorrow to my heart."

"Twenty?!" Ludwig cried in disbelief. "We are the same age?"

"Many people say I seem younger." Feliciano grinned.

After teaching Ludwig some basic phrases and vocabulary of the local language, Feliciano explained that the town was ruled by patricians. Craftsmen formed guilds, governed by strict rules, which sought to obtain control of the towns. Society was divided into sharply demarcated classes: the priests, physicians, merchants, various guilds of artisans, and peasants. Political tensions arose from issues of taxation, public spending, regulation of business, and market supervision, as well as the limits of corporate autonomy.

"Do people always have dinner before sunset here?" Ludwig asked.

"Nay." Feliciano chuckled, the sound of his laughter tinkling like a wind chime. "We, slaves, have to eat early so that we can attend our master's dinner—the banquet typically lasts for two and a half hours and sometimes it can extend throughout the night."

"What? Why does he need such a long time to dine?"

"Well, to the rich, dinner is more than just a meal. It's a social gathering with relatives and friends. Some people even compete to prepare the best entertainment and…" Feliciano's volume dropped, "…as a matter of fact, that's my primary duty here."

"You work at the dinner party? Do you jest or juggle? Read poetry? Sing? Dance?" Ludwig inquired with growing interest.

Yet, Feliciano looked away, sadness lacing his voice as he replied, "You'll see me at work in time. Let's get back inside."

Though perplexed as to why Feliciano was reluctant to talk about his duties in the household, Ludwig made no mention of it. After all, Feliciano simply helped the other slaves to serve the multitudes of dishes during their master's dinner— a task for which one need not be ashamed. The true answer, howbeit, revealed itself before Ludwig's eyes two days later.

One of the young serving boys dropped the heavy jug while he was pouring some arrack for Alpertunga's fourth wife—a woman of exotic beauty in her early-twenties with skin the color of roasted coffee, draped in a robe embroidered with intricate braids and sandals in gold tinsel. The lad began apologizing profusely with tears upon his eyes lest the middle-aged man with thinning hair, who was the major-domo of the household, berate him. Nevertheless, their master waved his hand dismissively, undesirous of stirring a commotion before his guests. He ordered the young slave to fetch another jug from the cellar with Ludwig's aid. Such was Ludwig's interpretation when the boy tugged at his tunic, signaling him to follow.

While striding across the colonnaded inner courtyard on the way back, muffled voices intermingled with music came from the direction of the dining hall. Then, as Ludwig crept near the horseshoe arched entryway, he saw to his mortification, bathed in the yellow light spilling out from the room, Feliciano in the embrace of a black-haired slave boy. Both slaves were wearing transparent tunics, concealing nothing of their wearers' skin.

When the taller slave's teeth and tongue featured themselves on Feliciano's upper thigh, near the bend of his leg, the brunet mewled and clenched his fingers into the black tresses. Feliciano's cheeks were flushed as the raven-haired slave noisily sucked his skin, revisiting a favored marking place that always stammered Feliciano's breathing. Feliciano's toes gripped the seat throw, and the mattress of the portable divan installed in the middle of the room sank with the dip of his hips.

Ludwig forgot to breathe, his knuckles turning white from gripping the jug so hard. So, it was feasible for two men to engage in a carnal union? He fought an internal battle of whether he should avert his eyes, but gave up once he saw how lustrously Feliciano's body moved under the raven-haired slave's ministrations.

Feliciano whimpered when the tip of the taller slave's manhood breached through his body. However, the next time the other slave thrust, Feliciano locked his arms around his partner's back as the tumid flesh inside him pressed even deeper. Feliciano didn't bother to hush his throaty vocalizations as the raven-haired boy pounded him. Instead, he rolled his body in pleasure, mirroring his partner's sensuous movements.

A surge of something unpleasant stirred within the pit of Ludwig's stomach; it made him want to look away and not tear his gaze off the obscenely arousing sight at the same time. The diners watched them intently, some sitting stiffly, some stroking their privates, and others groping their spouses. The locals had no inhibition of showing so blatant a debauchery to young eyes, with Alpertunga's five-year-old son and three-year-old daughter among the audience, albeit the children's obvious disinterest instigated them to run around the room frolicsomely—much to their nannies' distress—rather than to sit studiously.

Feliciano whined when the raven-haired youth pulled out. Hence, the taller slave flipped the brunet, pushing him back onto the mattress and then loomed over his backside. Feliciano landed face first, but even the mattress could not fully muffle his squeak when his partner entered him in one fluid slide and plunged into him hard, one of his legs pushed against the bed like a door on a hinge.

Yet this was far from being over.

Alpertunga clapped his hands, and a man with a larger frame stepped forward. Without further warning, he knelt, taking the black-haired slave, who was fucking Feliciano, in one subduing, eye-watering thrust. The raven-haired boy shuddered, and Feliciano shuddered with him. Each time the hefty man rocked the middle slave, the one at the bottom rocked with them.

"Oh, Wekesa! You're so biiig … _aah_!" the slave in the middle moaned lewdly.

Ludwig could no longer bear to watch. He gazed at the agents of illumination hanging from the ceiling. In addition to candles on their portable holders, the people of Telaardigha irradiated their homes with lamps of brilliantly colored glass hung in intricate brass fixtures attached to chains of colored beads, which could cast dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling.

"_Ah! Aah! Aaaahhh!_" The two slaves' moans grew louder and louder with each thrust, eliciting cheers from the dinner guests.

Grimacing, Ludwig strived to direct his attention to the provincial musical instruments. There were four musicians sitting in the corner. The first plucked a three stringed lute, the second and third struck different-sized percussions, and the last blew a flute.

"_Haa … aah!_" Feliciano's trenchant moan pierced through the air, and Ludwig was overwhelmed with the mad desire to sever his ears. That voice, sweet as it was, sounded as though the crier had forgotten everything else in the world. An unfamiliar pain sprouted within Ludwig. There was no room for his existence in Feliciano's mind, and although he was aware that this routine must have lasted for years, Ludwig still found it formidable to compromise.

Together with the spraying of seminal fluid on the sex performers' faces, strength sapped away from Ludwig's knees so that he had to lean against the wall to support himself. He was unsure if he could still look at Feliciano in the eye after this, but when the banquet was over and Alpertunga and his wives had retired to their chambers, it became apparent to Ludwig that Feliciano avoided him.

A part of Ludwig was desirous to chase after Feliciano, to tell him that what Feliciano had done did not repulse him and that he understood that Feliciano had merely carried out his duty. Whenever he had felt downhearted, Feliciano had always managed to coax out his smile; surely, their friendship would not be ruined by something like this! Even so, Ludwig could not find his voice and his feet suddenly became rooted to the ground.

* * *

**Vier**

**4**

The morning sun sifting through the window found Ludwig's loincloth forming an offensive bulge with streaks of white fluid down his thighs. Although Ludwig possessed no recollection concerning the entirety of his dream, he remembered that he was unmistakably taking Feliciano and reduced him to a whimpering mess.

Toward the end of the dream, he had felt Feliciano's breath trailing across his neck, heavy with need, and Ludwig's thrusts grew wilder and full of abandon. The brown-haired man's groans made Ludwig throb so fiercely that he feared he was about to explode. Feliciano gasped, but Ludwig leaned up, closing the distance between them to swallow Feliciano's breath as the shorter man came into his hand. Then Ludwig pressed in again and again until his hips faltered seconds later, skipping a beat before stilling with one long thrust that pulsed deep within Feliciano's molten core.

'_No! This is all because I haven't lain with any woman after the last battle.' _Ludwig dismissed his indecent dream as a pent-up sexual frustration. Usually, after each battle, the warriors of his tribe would gather in a tavern and drink in celebration of their victory. The village wenches would shower them with hugs and kisses, and even climb into the braver fighters' beds afterwards.

After cleansing himself, Ludwig joined the other slaves at the breakfast table. Communication was mainly done with sign language, as Feliciano was nowhere to be seen. The major-domo seemed to be able to speak many different tongues, as well, but he would not bother to translate everything for Ludwig.

With the town's location quite close to the shore, Ludwig had expected that fish would become a part of their regular diet; and yet, he had seen none since yesterday. When he mentioned this to the major-domo, the middle-aged man imperiously barked, "Finish your meal and don't be ungrateful!"

Ludwig was determined to find Feliciano after breakfast. Not only had he been tormented by the inconvenience of the translator's absence, but the situation might also grow awkward enough as to put a rift between them. Feliciano could be ridiculously annoying at times, but he was Ludwig's first friend in this foreign land.

He found Feliciano cleaning a guest's bedroom, as doors were thankfully kept ajar while such rooms were unoccupied. Unlike the slaves, who slept on the hard floor, the guests who occupied this room would find themselves comfortable upon a bed lined with yamoich pelt. The set of furniture was decorated with a variety of bright colors and intricate patterns.

Feliciano was bent over, trying to lift a low rectangular table so that he could sweep the floor behind it. From this angle, his buttocks swayed invitingly, beckoning Ludwig to plunge within their depths.

A flash of visualization came to Ludwig's mind unbidden. He pictured himself slamming hard into Feliciano, almost lifting him off his feet with the force of the thrust. Then he pulled back, nearly being pushed out by a closing sphincter before driving himself back in and sinking full depth again. This time he felt his viscous liquid streak along his masculinity, the feeling almost too overwhelming to bear, making him groan and grind himself against the shorter man's opening, keeping his manhood all the way in until that first fabulous release as the first of several spurts shot from his glans deep into Feliciano.

'_What am I thinking?!'_ he berated himself. Clearing his throat and urging his blood pressure to decline, he approached Feliciano. "May I help you in lifting this table?"

"Oh, um…" Feliciano was flustered. He kept his gaze on the bajot table instead of on Ludwig as he replied, "Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you."

After the table was shifted, Feliciano reserved his gaze to the floor and swept it in silence.

"It would appear that the locals adore swirls and geometric patterns, don't you agree?" Ludwig assayed a conversation.

Feliciano's shoulders stiffened as he replied, "They apparently regard imitating nature into art as sacrilege. That's why you won't see pictures or statues of humans, animals, and plants."

"Are you free after this? I think you missed the west wing while giving me a tour around this house yesterday," Ludwig asked. In all honesty, he doubted slaves would have that much spare time, but he had to try to converse with him to cast aside their awkwardness.

"That part of the house is the women's quarters. Is there anyone in particular that you long to see?"

"Nay, I'd rather see you—I mean, not that you possess the likeness of a woman—it's just … well…"

Since when did talking to a man become _this_ difficult? Ludwig inhaled sharply, "What I'm trying to say is that I desire to pass the time with you as much as our duties would permit."

Upon seeing Feliciano's twitch, he quickly added, "If you don't mind, that is. I mean, you are the first person I've encountered who has treated me as one would a friend…"

Feliciano swerved to face him at last, his brown eyes brimming with unshed tears. With a trembling voice, he asked, "You … you don't find me repulsive after last night?"

Ludwig shook his head vigorously, not trusting himself to speak; he had a feeling that his voice would betray him. While it was the truth that he did not despise Feliciano, his animalistic instinct had given him fantasies that would likely make him sound all the guiltier.

"Oh, Ludwig!" Feliciano's expression instantly transmuted into glee. He even threw his arms around Ludwig's broad shoulders.

"Uh…" Ludwig began, but hereafter his brain provided no more words. Heat crept up his cheeks. He had shared countless brotherly hugs with his fellow tribesmen before, so why did Feliciano's touch spur his heartbeats? It was almost like he had been hugged by a woman—and albeit Feliciano could pass as a female in stature, this was certainly an insult to his friend.

"Y-your free time…" Ludwig stuttered, trying not to envisage the shade of burgundy immersing his countenance.

Feliciano giggled but made no mention of this—much to Ludwig's relief. He smoothed the crease of Ludwig's attire and replied, "I'll see you at lunch."

Ludwig was already at the door when Feliciano's voice halted him, "And Ludwig…"

The aforementioned spun around. "Yes?"

"Thank you for not hating me. It means a lot." With that, Feliciano resumed sweeping—event though Ludwig was sure that particular portion of the floor had been cleaned—with a blush spreading up to the tip of his ears.

When Ludwig left, he felt as though a cumbersome burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Upon checking that his master had not risen from his bed, the bodyguard went outside with the intention of regulating the yamoich herd, as it was not his nature to sit idly when no duty awaited him.

Ideally, a six-month-old puppy should be trained to shepherd the cattle, but as he had not encountered any dog since he had first arrived, Ludwig decided to try training the leader of the herd. First, he observed their behavior, searching for a dominant animal that the others seemed to obey, which, usually was the largest male, and then watched the yamoich leader's temper carefully. Next, he named the yamoich leader "König"—which meant "king" in his native tongue—and got him accustomed to his orders, starting with the simple instruction to lie down or to follow him. It gave the slave a small comfort to order a king, even though the aforementioned king was no more than a king among a herd of cattle. In the long run, König should be able to drive the herd and separate individuals for shearing or jugulating.

Alpertunga awoke too prematurely for Ludwig to achieve a noteworthy progress during König's training; thence, the slave carried out his guard duty begrudgingly. There was not much to do other than stay alert, for the fact that his master's former bodyguard had been killed proved that Alpertunga Onarici was not without enemies. At any rate, Ludwig was grateful that at least he was not required to labor in the sun like the slaves toiling with limestone slabs he had seen yesterday.

* * *

**Fünf**

**5**

Ludwig's stomach lurched at the sight of more heavily-spiced yamoich meat during lunch. He asked Feliciano, "Do the locals eat yamoich at every meal?"

"Well, yes. It's unmanageable to breed cows and sheep on this steep cliff."

"What of fish from the yonder sea?"

"You see, the Telaardighaeans embrace this … uh, religion, known as Nakhurol. Anyway, it that forbids them to eat anything that doesn't live on land—they sort of believe that the air and the water must remain sacred. Of course, the believers won't touch fish, seaweed, and birds, but some religious sectors are still debating whether they should eat amphibians and poultry. It's quite funny, actually." Then Feliciano kept his head low as the major-domo glowered at him.

Ludwig could only guess that the man practiced the Nakhurol religion. He made no further mention of the meat and finished his meal quietly.

After lunch, Ludwig guarded Alpertunga, who left for business. _Three__-__quarters_ofan hour brought them to a complex by the harbor, wherein the weapon trader negotiated the price for two crates of imported goods. At least, the place was roofed, allowing the guarding duty itself to be less arduous than the journey. At the completion of the transaction, the supplier arranged a number of laborers to carry the merchandise to the House of Onarici. Ludwig sympathized with the selected eight consigners; in the absence of wheels, each crate had to be suspended on one shoulder each of four men and they toiled with the heavy load as mournfully as though they had been bearing biers during a funeral procession.

Much to Ludwig's relief, dinner involved no slatternly show that night. Feliciano helped to serve food and drink, and some other slaves were singing and dancing like the way it should be in a normal repast.

It was in the following morning that an unpleasant turn of event took place. As Ludwig headed to the well to relieve his parched throat after training König, he nearly bumped into a fleeing Feliciano.

At the sight of his friend's pale complexion, Ludwig asked, "What has transpired?"

"N-no. Nothing. I'm fine," Feliciano answered with a smile, but his conviviality seemed unnatural.

From the corners of his eye, Ludwig caught a glimpse of a figure, who hastily retreated into the house. He chased the fleeting figure at once, curiosity fuelling his thudding strides, but only found nobody but a ten-year-old boy half the height of the suspect.

"Joaquín, did anyone come this way?" Ludwig asked, using the basic Telaardighaean language that Feliciano had taught him. He remembered that the child had a firmer grasp of the tongue than he did.

"Ajay," Joaquín answered without pausing from dusting the hanging blue crystal amulet. This sort of amulets, Feliciano had explained to Ludwig the previous evening, was ubiquitous throughout Telaardighaean households as a protection against the Evil Eye.

"Thank you." Ludwig stepped outside again. Ajay was his master's accountant and as his duties demanded, he was a highly calculative individual. Judging how others would act based on their personalities was Ludwig's forte, and he knew that one misstep of accusing Ajay of a detrimental act against Feliciano in the absence of solid proof could earn him flagellation at the very least. He would definitely keep an eye out for the curly-haired slave, but he had the suspect's name and that would be sufficient for the nonce.

After fetching some water from the well, Ludwig rushed to Feliciano's side. "Here, drink this."

Feliciano took the clay goblet with a word of gratitude and sipped.

Ludwig waited until relief started to bloom across Feliciano's normally cheerful countenance before inquiring, "What did Ajay do to you?"

"Nothing, really. He just asked where I stored master's old statistics."

"Feliciano, we both know that a man would not have the daunted look in his face when asked such a question."

Feliciano chewed on his lip briefly before reinstating, "It was nothing of importance."

Ludwig sighed. "I understand if you do not trust me enough; after all, I am merely a newcomer here. But do confide your woes to someone you deem worthy of trust. It is unhealthy to keep harassment in the dark."

"Fret not, Ludwig." Feliciano smiled. "You'll be the first one I'll run to if ill-fortune befalls me."

###

Dinner that night was a gala affair, as Alpertunga's brother and his family, who resided in a faraway town, paid them a visit. Two divans were combined to accommodate four performers from both sexes. While Feliciano took the dusky-skinned female slave from behind, another male slave did the same to the fair-skinned female slave, while the women twisted their curvaceous bodies in a heated embrace, kissing and licking and nipping and nibbling.

"Y-your thick flesh … it's stirring inside me!" the fair-skinned female slaves cried out.

Her partner replied, "Moan for me more, harlot!"

The fact that the exchange was spoken in the Telaardighaean language meant that the charade was performed for the spectators' benefit. Even Feliciano might be faking when he seemed so immersed in his task. Still, jealousy spiked within Ludwig. Inasmuch as it was unhealthy to lust for his friend, he could not subdue the thorny vines of agony that coiled around his heart and the voice in side his head, screaming insistently, _'Don't touch Feliciano!'_

As the minutes passed by, the pain grew ever more unbearable to the extent that Ludwig would gladly trade places with any of the construction laborers if it meant that he would not need to see Feliciano's body connected to another's. Alas, his master's brother would stay for three days, so he had to endure more torturously extravagant dinners.

The yamoich training did not proceed smoothly the next morning, with König misinterpreting left for right being Ludwig's least sufferable defeat and the billy yamoich's ignoring his whistles completely being the commonest occurrence. Nor could he push or pull the animal too hard without risking the beast's crescent horns. Overall, it had been a tedious morning, and Ludwig could barely restrain himself from brooding. Still, the comforting thought of Feliciano's smile alleviated his moroseness. Thus, with the intention of seeing his friend, Ludwig went inside.

The Feliciano he found, however, was not in his usual jovial mood. He was curled up in one corner of the room he was supposed to clean, his body covered in bruises, though his face had been purposely kept unhurt.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig raced to his side, kneeling down gently should the smaller man bolt.

"Who did this to you? Was it Ajay?" Ludwig urged.

Feliciano rose from the floor, smiled, and gently pressed his index finger above the bridge of Ludwig's nose. "You've got creases right here when you think too seriously. Temper yourself; else, these wrinkles may ruin your handsome face."

Ludwig's breath hitched. Had Feliciano complimented his appearance?

'_No, this isn't the time for this!'_ Ludwig clenched his jaw for a moment, and then replied, "I mean it, Feliciano. You mustn't let that bastard do this to you again. Report his mistreatment to our master!"

"You can call me 'Feli' if 'Feliciano' is too lengthy, and I shall call you 'Luddy' in return."

'_Luddy? Not even mother called me that!'_ The idea made Ludwig cringe, but then he realized that Feliciano was dodging his question.

"If you are so keen on avoiding the subject, no further will I pursue into the matter. Nevertheless, allow me teach you some fundamental self-defense. I shall show you how to break free from an enemy's clutches by borrowing your opponent's strength so that you can buy yourself some time to remove yourself from the opposing party's presence, even if said foe were to be of a larger build than yours," Ludwig offered.

Feliciano hesitated, considering the proposition, then nodded and thanked him. "I have to clean this room now, though. Can we start later, say, before our dinner?"

"That is all well with me. Where shall we practice?"

"The guest room next door should fit our purpose."

###

"When your opponent strikes, step forward to catch his hand. Draw a circle in the air from bottom left to right, pressing your thumb against the knuckle of his little finger and your index finger against the knuckle of his thumb. You must finish this quickly, before he can obstruct you with his other hand. Like this." Ludwig demonstrated it to Feliciano, making sure he did it in the gentlest possible way. "Then twist until his palm is facing outward as you step back."

Feliciano nodded.

"Now you try."

"That's it," Ludwig instructed, "A little higher … and—ouch!"

"S-sorry, Ludwig! I didn't know it was _that_ painful; it didn't hurt when you did it to me!" Feliciano panicked.

"It's all right. Beginners are not used to controlling their power yet. Considering this is your first time, it _is_ impressive that you do it to such a degree of precision."

"Vee~" Feliciano beamed. Then he asked, "But I fail to comprehend … it didn't feel like you lent me your strength when I did that."

"Hmm…" Ludwig scratched his chin. "To put it simply, the pain, which precluded the assailant from advancing when you twisted his hand, derived from the power he applied while he was trying to grab ahold of you, rather than from your own power."

Ludwig cleared his throat. "At any rate, since you have mastered the first two steps, now we shall proceed to the next movements."

"Whaaat, there are more?" the shorter man whined.

"Naturally! What good will it do if your opponent is still on his feet and leaps to seize you the moment you attempt to liberate yourself from him?"

Ludwig deliberately refrained from implementing this into action; once he captured Feliciano, he would not want to let go.

"Now, with your other hand, push his elbow downwards as you walk behind him. In this fashion, his body will go down and you will be able to incapacitate his hand by locking his twisted knuckles against your knee. Like this."

The minutes flitted by rapidly as they practiced, Ludwig instructing with measured precision and Feliciano responding with sedulous attention. After Ludwig was satisfied with Feliciano's furtherance, he trained his companion to subjugate a left-handed assailant as well. They ended the session with a promise that Ludwig would tutor Feliciano how to fight a kick tomorrow and block an attack from behind the day after.

"And Feliciano, try to practice on your own in my absence. Just as unpolished blades will rust, languishing skills will dull in time."

"Aye, my liege." Feliciano saluted Ludwig in a jest upon leaving.

During dinner, even though Feliciano lay between another man and a woman in their sexual performance, Ludwig still had a small comforting thought: he would be able to keep Feliciano for himself in the evenings. No one else had the privilege to see Feliciano's smiles and hold his hands.

* * *

**Sechs**

**6**

The next morning, the clouds obscured the sun's insufferable heat, the yamoich training advanced smoothly, lunch was less spicy than usual, and nothing seemingly could go wrong for Ludwig. This was why when he found Feliciano for their self-defense training before the slaves' dinner in the same room as yesterday, he had not expected to see his fellow slave drenched in blood, standing next to Ajay, who was lying immobile on the floor with his eyes wide open and a kitchen knife embedded in his neck.

Ludwig realized with a shudder that the cheery, gentle-hearted Feliciano had transmogrified into a manslayer. His jaw flexed. The world grew cold with shock and obfuscation. Never in his wildest imaginings had he considered the possibility of his tender friend capable of surceasing a man's life with hands that had never before felt a sword's grip or a body unbeknownst to a warrior's disciplined regiment. Nonetheless, he cast all his prejudice aside for the time being and scurried to his friend's side to check for any injury. "Are you all right?"

Rather than answering, Feliciano trembled, eyes fixed on the blood dripping from Ajay's stab wound.

"We need to garb you in fresh clothing." Ludwig tugged at Feliciano's blood-stained sleeves once he had confirmed that no physical wound etched Feliciano's body.

As though Ludwig's touch had just ripped Feliciano out of his stupor, the shorter man startled.

"I … killed Ajay." The confession was barely above a whisper—the sole existing sound that pierced through the dreadful silence.

"I believe he attacked you first," Ludwig surmised, "It was an inevitable reaction on your part, Feliciano. Law is mighty, but mightier still is necessity. Surely master will understand that if we expla—"

"Master is going to kill me," Feliciano cut Ludwig's conjecture short.

"Of course not. How can he punish you when it is Ajay who was in the wrong?"

Feliciano shook his head. "It matters not whose fault the attack was. The fact is that master paid the price for a man of skill like Ajay at least twice as much as his purchase of a boy slave like me. Besides, master trusts Ajay; he is the major-domo's nephew and they both had been working here before I came."

"Then we shall flee this place together to the other side of the ocean."

'_We?'_ A voice protested inside Ludwig's head. Since when was there a "we" between him and Feliciano? And yet, he could not leave his friend alone in his wretchedness.

Feliciano shook his head again. "It's no use. The pursuers will find us first. They're everywhere. And once we're in their hands, we'll be subjected to torture worse than death."

An idea sprang into Ludwig's mind, one which may well save his friend.

"Remove your clothes," he commanded. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.

Feliciano cast him an incredulous stare. "Wh…"

"We should exchange our attire. If anyone inquires, it was I who killed Ajay."

"Ludwig, no! The price of a bodyguard is equal to a skilled accountant. There's no telling if master will forgive you!"

"This is for the best."

"No, I can't let you take the blame for my wrongdoing! If only I hadn't panicked! I should have brought him to the ground as you taught me yesterday!"

Ludwig disrobed in silence and handed the white linen to Feliciano, who kept shaking his head.

"Ludwig, please…" Feliciano gripped the hem of his attire in precaution for Ludwig's imposed removal, greater worry tainting his already anxious expression.

Ludwig did not move, willing himself not to scare Feliciano further. "In nowise shall I allow you to be slaughtered. I'd rather never be able to see the light of day again than live for a hundred years in a world without you in it."

"Lud … wig?" Feliciano tilted his head, an uncomprehending gaze haunting his brown eyes.

Ludwig's fists clenched. "It's only natural that a man desires to protect the one he loves."

Tears started to form in Feliciano's eyes, and Ludwig regretted his bluntness at once. If only he had managed a firmer control of himself, at least Feliciano would still think of him as a friend when he died!

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said—"

Feliciano shook his head. "Ludwig, my days have been full of wonders since you came here, but I still can't forget my first love."

"Your first love?" Ludwig repeated the words with shivering lips. Of course! Wasn't it too presumptuous of him to assume that an attractive young man like Feliciano had no romantic entanglement elsewhere?

"It's the thoughts of him that keep me going all these years. In fact, I…" Feliciano's voice faltered. "…in all likelihood, I'd have let Ajay ravish me again today if it hadn't been for him."

"_Again_?" Ludwig's eyes squinted in suspicion.

"Some slaves desire their fellow slaves, and I used to s-succumb to the stronger slaves' will."

Blood seethed within Ludwig. "How could you allow that?! Relieving others' sexual tension outside the dinner party is by no means part of your duties!"

A sigh preceded Feliciano's answer. "It's one of those things that are bound to bechance sex slaves."

Knowing that it would be no use to berate his friend presently, Ludwig took a deep breath, exhaled, breathed in again, and breathed out. At last, after calming down slightly, he asked, "If you used to let other slaves ravish you, what have won you to alter your determination now?"

Feliciano's entrancing eyes turned glassy as he confided in Ludwig, "In the dearth of hope for a joyous life with my beloved, I didn't resent the defilement of my body. But then you came … you remind me of that boy. You have golden hair and blue eyes like him, and even speak his language, so the hope that died within me has now revived."

Pain blossomed within Ludwig's heart and dispersed through his veins. So, the reason behind Feliciano's geniality was because he bore a resemblance to another person?

Feliciano took out a necklace from his pocket. "We spent only one summer together, eight years ago. I was staying at my uncle's house back then, so I had to return to my grandpa's house when the summer ended. I promised that boy that I'd return the following summer, but then I was captured and enslaved. It has remained my unremitting regret heretofore that I neither have been nor will be able to fulfill that promise."

Ludwig squinted. That cross pendant looked terribly similar to his own. He peeled off the band of cloth draped around his head and revealed an identical item. The pair of necklaces were his family heirloom, and his grandfather had told him to keep one for himself and give the other to the one he loved as dearly as life itself—which was why his father had been furious upon discovering that he had already bestowed it to a girl when he had barely been twelve years old.

Feliciano's eyes widened. "Ludwig, that's … i-it can't be!"

Ludwig's heart pounded with thunderous beats as he spoke, "My father and I used to hunt every summer, and the Bohemian Forest was the location we selected eight years ago. One day, I saw a girl of my age striving to reach a pear hanging from a tree branch. I desired to help her, but I couldn't reach the pear either, since I was just as short. I promised myself to engage in a warrior's exercise so that I could grow into a tall man that she would admire. But all I could do for her right there was to let her step on my shoulder to reach the lofty branch."

A radiant smile blooming across his face, Feliciano finished the account for him, "You kept your head down all the time with red cheeks, and when I asked what was wrong, you said that it'd be poor manners to peek underneath a lady's gown." Feliciano giggled. "After that, every day, as soon as I finished helping my aunt clean the house, I would sneak out to play with you."

Ludwig dared not breathe. Having just heard the thing he desired and dreaded the most, he could not decide whether to lament or celebrate the tiding. In the end, reason took over. "Your capture justified why your aunt conveyed to me that you had perished when I knocked at her cottage door upon revisiting the Bohemian Forest the following summer. Notwithstanding this, why did you wear female attire and introduce yourself as Alice eight years ago?"

"Ve, but, but … I was too ashamed to tell you I was actually a boy. My uncle and aunt had no children of their own, so they acted like parents to me and my brother. However, they were in want for children of heterogeneous sexes … my brother adamantly refused to don a maiden's guise … what choice did I have?" Feliciano pouted. "Besides, you also told me Gerhart was your name."

"It truly was my name at that time. It is a custom of my tribe to call the second eldest grandchild by the grandparent's name before said child reaches adolescence." Ludwig groaned, "But to think that my first kiss was with another male…"

"Does it…" Feliciano hesitated, "…does it bother you?"

Glancing at Feliciano's anxious brows, Ludwig acceded to Fate's design. "Not anymore."

* * *

**Sieben**

**7**

Feliciano grinned from ear to ear and latched his arms around Ludwig's shoulders, dissipating Ludwig's woe. He was standing on tiptoes until their foreheads touched, and Ludwig bent lower to meet his lips, without minding Feliciano stealing his breath.

There was something magical about that kiss. Rapture enshrouded Ludwig's being, while Feliciano clung to him as if they had been melting together. Dainty hands were holding him tight as he heard nothing but the clamorous beating of their hearts and felt nothing but the brush of his lover's fingertips across his back. Shortness of breath enhanced the sensation of soaring that diffused throughout their bodies.

It was so different from their first kiss, yet so similar all the same. On the last day before Feliciano had departed with his grandfather, they had shared a kiss underneath the pear tree whence they had first met. Back then, the tips of Ludwig's appendages tingled with the excitement of the delightfully foreign touch as Feliciano's mouth fed hungrily off of his. Today, the same tingling sensation revisited him, confirming that, regardless of how many women he had dallied with, only Feliciano of all entities in the universe could make him feel this way.

Feliciano broke into giggles. "On the both occasions we kiss, why do they happen near a corpse?"

It took a moment for Ludwig to realize that the body of the elk he had hunted had lain near his feet the first time the twelve-year-old Feliciano and he had kissed. He would have mirrored his lover's laughter had he not noticed the tears that rolled down Feliciano's cheek.

"My love, what is wrong?" Ludwig asked, his thumb brushing a tear.

"Ludwig, I don't want you to die," Feliciano whimpered, more tears flowing down his hapless countenance.

Ludwig embraced the sobbing Feliciano against his chest, indulging himself for a moment in the scent of his lover's hair as he assayed not to envision the extent of anguish Feliciano would suffer when the relentless scythe of Death separated them. He whispered, voice trembling with the intensity of his emotion, "Grieve no more, my dear, my darling, for I will never truly leave you. Even if my body is no longer in this world, my soul will always be in the peals of your laughter and in the tears you shed."

Feliciano hugged Ludwig tighter, but not a moment later, too quick for comfort, the taller man remorsefully tore himself off his beloved. "We'd better relate the tiding of Ajay's death to master; it'd be worse if he hears it from someone else's mouths rather than ours."

"No! I'm nothing without you!" Feliciano lamented, fingers grasping to clutch Ludwig's arms, "Why must one of us die so soon after we're reunited at last?" Feliciano lamented, fingers grasping to clutch Ludwig's arms, "We should both take the blame for Ajay's demise so that we can greet the threshold of Death together."

The warrior spirit inside Ludwig regarded this as a cowardly act. He rebuked his lover mordaciously, "How could I find peace in the afterlife knowing that my beloved submitted to Death out of the selfish fear of being alone? You ought to live your time on earth fully, if only to allow me the comforting knowledge that my sacrifice is not in vain and though I will be denied an honorable warrior's death, my memory will not be banished to the void of forgotten history, but continue in my lover's heart. For that and that alone, I may forsake my life to an unjust and undeserved end, in chains rather than with my sword and freedom."

For a brief moment, Feliciano looked like he was going to disapprove, to protest, but then the deviant look in his eyes diminished. He bit his lip and nodded with a muffled sob.

Gathering Feliciano's hands in his own, Ludwig avowed, "In another lifetime, I will find you. No matter how much our appearances will have been altered by then, you will remain my one and only love. Until then, please wait for me."

"Ludwig, no matter how many bodies I am condemned to lie with henceforward, my heart will always belong to you. I will honor you and live with our memory imprinted on my soul," Feliciano promised him back.

After exchanging their garbs, the two slaves found their master in the prayer room. Alpertunga was standing up with a bent torso and hands covering the sides of his head. Upon catching sight of his master, Ludwig first assumed that the man must be suffering from a terrible headache or another illness of similar nature, causing him nearly to rush to his master's aid, but Feliciano pulled him back.

"We must wait until master has finished," Feliciano whispered, "His religion necessitates its believers to recite certain prayers in seven appointed times every day, facing the direction of their sacred mountain."

'_That's a posture of worship?'_ Ludwig observed the praying man in amusement in spite of the tumult in his heart.

Alpertunga now sat upright on his knees, his hands on his lap.

At any other time, he would ask Feliciano why the Nakhurol religion indoctrinated the practice of praying with designated time slots as opposed to letting its believers communicate with the gods when their hearts were ready. However, at the moment, he cared more about his impending penalty.

"Master, Ajay is dead," Ludwig declared as soon as Alpertunga ceased praying using the little Telaardighaean vocabulary he had learned from Feliciano, albeit with the improper grammar and syntax. "I kill he. He harm Feliciano … he try."

The mustachioed man turned his head to the side, his countenance immediately assuming an aspect of fury. In lieu of asking why, he ordained, "Show me his body."

"This way, master," Feliciano responded and led Alpertunga into the guest room.

The other slaves eyed them as they passed, blood dripping from Ludwig's sleeves.

A single glance was all it took for the master of the house to spout an indignant yell: "The sword! The sword on your belt remains clean even though your raiment is spattered with blood. Are you claiming that you ignored the weapon you already carried and went to fetch a knife from the kitchen merely to vindicate Ajay when he assayed to violate Feliciano? How _dare_ you confabulate a lie to beguile your master! Did you take me for a fool?"

The moment Feliciano translated Alpertunga's words, a rising consternation gripped Ludwig's gut. The taller slave opened his mouth, willing to articulate a reasonable explanation, a condolence, anything, but wit failed him. So many words rushed through his mind but evaded his tongue. He thought that this peradventure was what drowning felt like. The awareness that he was dragged into a bottomless pit of guilt made him want to scream and struggle, but his body refused to move as much as a muscle.

Feliciano prostrated himself on the ground, pleading, "Master, our deepest regrets for speaking untruthfully. It was I who murdered Ajay, but the part about him trying to violate me is true—he wielded that knife to threaten me just as he had done so several times before. Ludwig was trying to protect me; he doesn't deserve a punishment."

Although Ludwig could comprehend Feliciano's Telaardighaean words only in broken pieces, he guessed that Alpertunga must be considering the probability of guile in Feliciano's tongue, but something of the desperation in the shorter slave's voice rang true. The flaxen-haired slave tried to interfere, to insist that Feliciano should be spared, but a wave of Alpertunga's hand muted him.

After a period of silence, Alpertunga decreed, "You both have earned yourselves a condign punishment for speaking untruthfully to your master and to put a fellow worker to death."

Ludwig closed his eyes. The degree of severity for their punishments would differ from each other. The time to bid farewell to Feliciano came at last.

"Ludwig, Feliciano, I hereby declare that you both are condemned to slavery for life. You shall devote all your remaining years to serve under me, robbed of the opportunity for liberation regardless of your accomplishments," Alpertunga stated, "As for Ajay, he should have known better than to lay his hands upon his master's property without permission. See to it that his corpse is fed to the wild beasts!"

Ludwig recalled the heads on the stakes he had seen the first time he set foot in the environs of Telaardigha, and his hair stood on end. Yet, Alpertunga strode out of the room, his brows stern and his robe billowing behind him.

Ludwig released the breath he had been holding, while Feliciano's lips curved into the most enchanting smile Ludwig had ever seen.

Fiddling his fingers, Feliciano mumbled, "So … this means we're bound together forever?"

Relief dissolved all the inhibitions left within Ludwig. He had not even been cognizant that slaves could be freed and his duties were not oppressively hard; all things considered, would it matter much if he were to be branded someone else's property, as long as he could spend the rest of his life with his beloved? Lifting Feliciano off his feet, he spun the smaller man around in mid-air.

"Whee!" Feliciano squealed in delight, and then he laughed, and Ludwig rejoiced with him.

That Feliciano landed a kiss upon Ludwig's lips was not unexpected, but the soaring sensation, as though his own body had been fathoms above from the ground, still made Ludwig's head reel with euphoria. Why was it, when it came to Feliciano, nothing else in the world seemed to matter?

* * *

**Acht**

**8**

The opening promiscuous show at that evening's dinner was performed by three female slaves kissing and licking one other. Amidst their concupiscent moans, Ludwig watched the scene with multitudes of questions forming inside his head. In the olden times, he would readily stroke himself into a sexual relief upon seeing so salacious a display, for he had always been keen on women with voluptuous breasts, especially when they bounced in accordance to their owner's movement. But now that his path had crossed with Feliciano's, his previous excitement receded and his mind could only focus on a singular conjecture: what it would feel like to lick and kiss Feliciano all over?

As though reading Ludwig's mind, Alpertunga wagged his finger to call the tall slave to his side and asked, "What would you do if I order Feliciano to lay with another?"

Ludwig's eyes widened in horror. His master was aware of his feelings for Feliciano. What if love between fellow slaves were to be prohibited?

"I cannot say no to you, master." He clenched his fists. "But I…" he paused, raking his brain for the Telaardighaean translation of '_will prove_,' and when he could not think of any, he settled for "…show you that Feliciano will perform better with me than with any other partner."

"Interesting." Alpertunga pinched the edge of his moustache and twisted the dark hair. "Prove it."

Thus, Ludwig and Feliciano took the central divan. The copious spectators eyed them anticipatively; they had witnessed Feliciano's skills before, but they knew none of Ludwig's. Having their first time surrounded by an audience was not how Ludwig had envisioned their intimacy would be, but if this measure could be used as a prevention from seeing Feliciano being bedded by others in the future…

They began to kneel on the divan, slowly and sensuously peeling the clothing from each other's bodies, until Alpertunga's elder brother, Alboserhan, pointed at them and remarked, "I've seen a smaller man taken by a brawny one several times now. Entertain me with its reverse!"

Ludwig blinked with incomprehension until Feliciano translated Alboserhan's demand for him. He gulped. How could that impertinent goateed guest want Feliciano to fuck him?

Feliciano gazed at him with both worry and uncertainty. Feebly, he asked, "I guess … you aren't used to assume the receiving role?"

"I-I have never … with any men before…" Ludwig stammered. Was he—a warrior of the proud Suebi Tribe—going to be sexually conquered by a frail-looking man?

"What are you waiting for?" Having set down his smoking pipe, Alpertunga intoned with an escalating impatience. The timbre of his voice bespoke a threat for those who dared to defy his behest.

Feliciano assured Ludwig, "Just lie down and trust me. I'll make it as painless as possible for you."

Pain? Was man-to-man penetration meant to be painful at all? The talon of fear anchored itself within Ludwig's heart, but he did as he was told. Apparently, he must have worn an amusing expression, because he heard some giggles from the audience.

Ludwig's skin broke out in gooseflesh as Feliciano's fingertips begin to trail across his diaphragm. _'This is Feliciano,' _Ludwig reminded himself. _'You are going to be united in flesh with your loved one.'_

Looming over the recumbent man, Feliciano peppered little kisses over Ludwig's chest, stomach, and thighs, the deliberately tender touch of his mouth slowing down time so that every tiny degree of each second seemed to hang in space, every touch holding a lifetime of desire. Although Feliciano was a cognoscente in the arts of seduction with any partner, the enormity of his affection behind each kiss to Ludwig was insurmountable. Lovingly, reverently, devotedly, he mapped the terrain of Ludwig's body.

Then, without preamble, Feliciano's fingers invaded his mouth, pushing to the back of his throat and making him gag, saliva spilling over Ludwig's chin as he struggled to accommodate the wriggling digits. He panted for breath when Feliciano pulled away, but this relief was short lived when he felt one of the slender digits probe at his back entrance.

Ludwig tightened, muscles clamping in a powerful clench until Feliciano peppered his neck and shoulder with little kisses to assuage his nerves. Perchance it was the half-pleading, half-solacing look in Feliciano's eyes or perchance it was the gentle reassurance from Feliciano's fingers, but whatever the cause, Ludwig's discomfort transformed into a sizzling jolt of pleasure that built with every plunge. His hips bucked involuntarily and short gasps left his open mouth; the crowd of spectators grew hungrier as they admired the display.

Before Ludwig knew it, his virile flesh had risen as rigidly as a lance, tacitly informing Feliciano that he was truly ready at last. The shorter man withdrew his fingers from Ludwig, planting a kiss that instilled new securities to the vestal slave.

Gently parting Ludwig's thighs open, Feliciano positioned his hips until they were aligned to the reclining man and his manhood, glistening with oil prepared in advance for the task, nudged at Ludwig's opening. He soughed in Ludwig's native language, "I'm going in."

Initially, the inexperienced man's instinct fought the intrusion. He gritted his teeth as agony flared through him. His muscles tensed in a spasm and his tightening sphincter threatened to strangle his lover's rigid flesh. The pain was entirely foreign, like an unfamiliar language that struck his ears. Something stung in Ludwig's eyes, but he would not let any tear slip. Sweat dripping continuously from his temple, the taller man bit the back of his own hand with clenched abdominal muscles, not knowing how to cease shivering with the other man's considerable girth inside him.

Yet, the resistance lasted shorter than he had expected. Afterwards, in spite of his embarrassment, his body absorbed Feliciano further in. His countenance flustered a dark scarlet as he realized this. He panted softly, his eyes closed, as the pain slowly abated.

'_Is this how it feels to be entered by a man?'_

Ludwig felt something hot and wet dripping on his shoulder. The first sight that swam in his eyes the moment he opened them was tears bedewing Feliciano's comely face.

"Ludwig," Feliciano murmured, every syllable exuding unadulterated elation, "I'm inside you … we're one at last! I've never been _this_ happy before."

The simple statement brought astonishment to Ludwig. Here he was, thinking about his own wounded pride, yet Feliciano had not the slightest motive of subjugating him. No affection could be more sincere than the sentiment reflected in those clear eyes. Ashamed of his selfishness yet not trusting his tongue to utter anything that would not ruin the moment, Ludwig reached for the brown thicket of his lover's hair and gently stroked it.

Feliciano moved slowly so that he could take time to relish what he felt as he moved in and out of Ludwig. His mouth nipped and nibbled any sight of Ludwig's uncovered skin as his tongue teased and tasted his partner's bareness. His roaming hands soothed Ludwig with their gentle caresses, and Ludwig found comfort when those dainty fingers circled around his abdomen and trailed along his jutting hip bones.

Their intercourse had been quiet thus far, with only the increase of the receiving man's labored breathing amid the ruffling sheet. But then Ludwig began to pant, endeavoring to stifle his gasps, working hard to suppress a moan that would only serve to embarrass him further.

As Feliciano's hips twirled in a graceful gyration, Ludwig's world whirled into exultation. The moment Ludwig felt the heat throbbing in his loins, he resigned that masculine pride was no longer indispensable to him. Each of the shorter man's strokes reached a special place deep inside him that he had never suspected to exist. Soon, his rebuking look succumbed into that of pure wantonness. Ludwig threw his arms around Feliciano's back and dug his blunt nails into the flesh, accepting his partner's thrusts. The seat throw was damp and tangled beneath his back as he moved his hips together with his partner in synchronizing harmony.

Ludwig's pale legs wrapped around Feliciano's hips as the brunet ever so tenderly stroked the arousal practically offered to him. The lineaments of his face were irradiated by a smile as his lover's voice hitched at the touch, and searched for those cerulean eyes with a wordless reassurance that this was going to be a delightful experience. But Ludwig bent forward, his hands pressing against Feliciano's shoulders, desiring nothing but full body contact. He could no longer tell his own body's beginning or end; he desired nothing but to be pressed against Feliciano, stomach to stomach and limbs entwined.

Feliciano must have sensed Ludwig's trepidation turning to contentment and fright turning to bliss, as his hard thrusts started then.

* * *

**Neun**

**9**

With Feliciano's body slamming onto and sliding into him, self-control was not something Ludwig could maintain for long. What started as a gasp evolved into a groan, and in time, evolved into a moan. Moan after moan escaped from the warrior's throat in an unmeant denial. He had no understanding of the noise that he himself produced, but he could not restrain them with the way Feliciano caressed his body, leaned down and licked his neck and bit gently on the nubs of his pectorals.

'_Your breathless voice … your prominent collarbone … your homey scent … your pulsing heat… your undying love … I want everything!'_

As the minutes passed by, the frictions between them grew more and more feverish. The pace quickened and Feliciano had to steady Ludwig's hips. The slap of their bodies colliding grew louder and his sac incessantly crashed into his partner's. Feliciano thrust harder, and Ludwig squeezed his legs tighter around Feliciano's hips, unknowingly making the opening tighter and more tantalizing for his penetrating partner. The sharp bone of Ludwig's pelvis undulated every time he flexed his thighs to the contours of Feliciano's as he entered him. His gasps of pleasure were becoming more difficult to mask. Even the divan itself was vocal, with the rustles of fabric and the groans of the wooden frame. How humiliating!

"Ludwig, oh Ludwig, I love you … so much!" Feliciano slurred, his eyes half-lidded, hair mussed, and cheeks flushed. He ended his declaration with a nibble on Ludwig's earlobe, his smooth thighs grinding against the back of Ludwig's knees.

Ludwig nearly came; white droplets rolled down his pulsating shaft. Was sex supposed to be _this_ phenomenal? Pleasure radiated and diffused throughout his entire being from the single point where the two bodies were connected. He gasped and clenched his hands in his ravisher's arms in desperate clutches whereas his toes dug into the seat throw below him. Agonizing though it was, his body refused to disconnect from his seducer's. Even his inner walls sucked the length of his partner's member each time Feliciano slid out, then squeezed each time the brunet slid back inside.

How could Feliciano, petit and slender Feliciano, be as overpowering as the sea?

When Feliciano's wandering palms caressed the slope of Ludwig's buttocks, Ludwig felt his body tingle from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He quivered, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything other than allow an entity named Feliciano Vargas take over his world. After that, everything was like a dream, time flowing like an ever-increasing river, carrying Ludwig with it, so that there was only the intense gaze of Feliciano's eyes, the sound of their breathing and the unbearable pleasure spearing Ludwig on a rack of exquisite sensation.

Leaning down, Feliciano tried to catch Ludwig's mouth between wordless gasps, meeting and then breaking away as passion rocked his body and drove him senseless. To Ludwig, there were very few things that tasted as good as Feliciano's kiss. The seducer's tongue slipped inside to tease the roof of his mouth. He moaned slightly into the kiss, his arms reaching up to encircle Feliciano's nape in an effort to bring it closer. Desperate noises escaped from Ludwig's lips every time Feliciano pulled back just a little to catch his breath before covering his lover's mouth once more.

'Feliciano, jeden Augenblick den ich mit dir verbringe ist das größte Glück meines Lebens. Dich zu lieben ist alles … Ich weiß nur zu haben oder zu sterben.'

_['Feliciano, every time spent with you is the best experience of my life. Loving you is all I know … I only know to obtain it or die.']_

Incoherent noises streaming from his mouth, Feliciano swayed against Ludwig, pulling almost completely out, slamming back in. Rigorous and persistent, his arousal pleasured his partner, possessed him, rubbed against that spot inside that made Ludwig squeak, voice cracking into a whole new octave.

Feliciano gyrated his hips, and Ludwig rocked with him, writhing underneath his sweat-covered body, attempting in vain to prevent his vocalization from the pleasure-infused release. Then Feliciano pushed as deep as he could course within Ludwig, pulling on Ludwig's thighs as the taller man's back arched in mid-air, with only the top of his head and his toes touching the divan. Feliciano stilled, the base of Ludwig's sac hitting Feliciano's pubes in a lascivious friction, pearlescent fluid spurting from the tip of its length and splotching over their chests.

Time stood still when the inexorable tides of orgasm crested over them both, their bodies merging and their souls mingling. Ludwig gave a long quiver of pleasure as Feliciano's masculine essence coursed within him, filling him, claiming him. He slid his hands over the kneeling man's shoulder and into his nape, holding the brunet against his body as his lover murmured his name in an equally ardent shudder.

'Herzliche Liebe verbindet uns stets.'*

_['Love in our hearts connects us everlastingly.']_

They both rode out the aftershocks in a small, hasty frenzy, calling out one another's names hoarsely. Ludwig reached up and cupped Feliciano's face in his hands. Then, together, unbidden, their mouths moved to close the gap between them. As they kissed, the last shred of sunlight reflected off the wall caused their two shadows to lock together in an inseparable union.

As Feliciano pulled out at last, Ludwig felt the most peculiar sensation of something thick leaking out of him, and knew that this must be his beloved's liquefied desire. Everything that transpired this evening had not been a dream—Feliciano had really been inside him and joined with him in the heat of their passion. Instinctively, Ludwig wrapped his legs around Feliciano's hips and his arms around Feliciano's back, savoring an embrace with his lover once more.

They ought to rise from the divan, ought to remove themselves from the audience's sight, now that the show was over, but neither man wanted to move. Applause poured over them, starting with a single hand clapping, but then grew into streams of deafening cheers.

Limbs still draped over Feliciano's body, Ludwig craned his neck over his lover's shoulder and beheld approving faces. Alpertunga's second and third wives were discussing the latest performance in earnest. "I've never seen anything so moving even though Feliciano has done it with lots of other partners before … it was beautiful! And behold the new slave's reaction—he was so needy and desperate for his little partner's touches to the extent that he forgot we existed."

Even though Ludwig recognized no more than half the vocabulary, a deeper shade of crimson suffused his complexion at this comment.

The other woman's response, however, gave him a ray of hope, "Absolutely! We must have these two perform at every dinner from now on!" She turned toward Alpertunga, whose lower robe bulged conspicuously despite the looseness of the garment. Ensuring that her cleavage was fully exposed to his scrutiny, she besought him, "Can we please have that arrangement, husband?"

"I've been thinking of the same thing," the master of the house announced. "But I should like to see Feliciano tied up to a pillar next, while Ludwig dominates him from behind."

Feliciano could not suppress his giggles when he translated his master's orders.

Frequent sex with Feliciano henceforth? This stunned Ludwig. The day he had been captured, taken from his native soil, clad in chains, and sold into slavery, Ludwig had believed all happiness was forfeit; even the thought of eventual escape had been but a distant hope.

"It delights me to have found you at last, my love," in the bloom of exaltation, Feliciano whispered against Ludwig's chest, his lithe arms tightening around the taller man's waist.

Bending down to place a kiss atop those soft brown strands, Ludwig's arms encircled his lover with a treasured affirmation, never wanting to let go. "The feeling is mutual. You bring meaning to my existence, and I shall cherish you for as long as I draw breath."

"You'll never be alone again, Ludwig. We may be slaves, but we _are_ together—that's all I ever wished for." Feliciano's benign eyes began to water, but he offered a sincere smile, before claiming his lover's lips again in a kiss that would have snapped Ludwig's bones with its sheer power and brought his fighter's body to total surrender.

Ludwig's hand found his lover's and their fingers intertwined. Against the Fate's design, he had found love amongst the chains and, though still bound to a master, he no longer faced a future as bleak as he had dreaded. He had Feliciano to brighten the coming years.

THE END

* * *

* Quoted from _Römische Elegien XV_ by Johann Wolfgang Goethe.


End file.
